


Lover to Lover

by Senora_Luna



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Coco Locos Smut Off, Drunk Sex, Lee said he had a very active sex life, Missing Canon, Missing Scene, Multi, One Night Stands, One-Sided Attraction, Orgy, Pre-Canon, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Threesome, bad choices, risky sex, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 20:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senora_Luna/pseuds/Senora_Luna
Summary: Ernesto de La Cruz certainly got around in his youth. After all that’s why it was so believable when a living boy claimed to be his descendant. After all, how does one ignore heaven on earth?An imagining of Ernesto's sex life before he died.





	Lover to Lover

This is so strangely familiar, Ernesto considers as he awakes to the sight of the woman’s back. Of course, it should be. It’s rare to spend a night alone. Just how drunk was he, that his mind is conjuring the woman he fucked a few hours ago as a Déjà vu memory already? Well at least it makes her a pleasant surprise for a sober mind.  
  
Other than the sensation, there was no shocking tattoo or image across her back, to make her stand out from any other woman he found at a party. Like any other Mexican beauty surely, was how he categorized her in his mind. Might as well enjoy her if she was still here.

Ernesto scooted closer until he felt the heat radiating off her, that he could study the curves of her body in an intoxicating inhale that blurred away any obligations of the morning. Of getting up, getting dressed, hearing a boring itinerary from his assistant, checking the damage in the mirror of the advancing strands of gray in his temples, and lines under his eyes. A touch of her could even set the sun once more.

With an open palm he sanded it down her side, the crook of her shoulder, letting his fingers dip over the outline of her breast (smaller than he recalled from the night before), slide down the slope of her ribcage, then crawl back up the hill which made her hip. A little coaxing could wake her for another round, a drop off the hip to the abyss between. Then he stilled, his index finger caught on the subtle protrusion of a scar. Tiny, probably from a needle or a string or the nail-

The nail? His thoughts catch like a coat sleeve on a door hinge, halting his immediate progression to his fleshy distraction, tumbling backwards into the room cluttered with other bodies.

* * *

  
“Señor Abascal would discharge me over this,” He’s so cute, is the thought running over and clouding all other thoughts in Ernesto’s head as he nears the assistant. The stripes on his bow tie make him especially adorable, especially up close as he pins his body with his own at the edge of his employer’s desk.

“He doesn’t need to know,”

“Señor de la Cruz-“

“Ernesto, if we’re going to work together it should be Ernesto.”

“I don’t want to risk your new contract-“

“We’re celebrating my contract.” Before he can pose another stupid idea he kisses him again, his palm sliding between the man’s legs. Why shouldn’t he be so gracious? The boy was practically drooling over him during the meeting and he hadn’t bothered to indulge because he was so focused on sealing the deal. Two records, a twenty-not thirty- percent cut to his manager, and a promotional tour across Central Mexico to see if audiences took to him.

“By risking it? We could um-go to my flat it’s not too far-,”

“Oh that’s impossible,” Ernesto nearly moaned getting a grip on the assistant’s cock through the stripped trousers. “I must have you now, I want to celebrate now, you have to indulge the energy of a moment.” It earns him a distracted moan, a soft curse. “You know that’s how art works.” It’s bullshit but pacifies the worried furrow in the young man’s brow to one of pleasurable surrender.

“Are you telling me the moment wouldn’t last five minutes-oh mierda” A squeeze of his cock changes his tone,”-I can’t believe this is happening, you’re-one of the best-looking hombres who’ve ever come in here.” And he’s lost. Ernesto’s grin twists into a smirk. Now he wouldn’t even have to answer the ridiculous question and explain the heat of a moment was not something to let slip by or dampen at any cost.

A stupid comment could make it as useless as wet firewood, leaving a pair of cold and miserable people waiting on their wood to be useful again. Besides he had to do something to mark this momentous occasion, he had to celebrate with someone.

“You flatter me. You’re just as fetching of a young man.” This is too easy, and he schmoozes the point with a kiss. “Turn around-I take you’re not a virgin are you? I can be gentle if you like…” It’s a taunt and encouragement at the same time. The assistant, R-something, makes another precious expression scowling at the implication he’d made it well into his twenties without any sort of experience. Works like a charm and he’s bending over the desk by his own accord, undoing his suspenders to drop those slacks and expose his wonderfully taunt ass.

“N-no I’m not.” It takes Ernesto less than thirty seconds to undo his trousers and get inside him. It isn’t very tender, just some spit on his hand, running it across his cock, and then parting the assistant’s ample ass with his girth. He barely has the patience to ask how long he needs to adjust. But he always manages, for the sake of the adulations. It’s not fun unless he hears his name being moaned in praising ecstasy.

He’s fast, and rough, clutching his hips with an eagerness, and moving with a velocity to stress his victory. Oh he needed this, he needed the absolute expression of his excitement that he could ram into the young man’s ass, all of the tension of worries coming out in it. Every concern of ‘would he make it’ answered with a resounding ‘sí’ magnified by the loud clap of balls against his cheeks.

Each struggle, each sacrifice, all were worth it as he leans over the desk past the boy’s head to stare at the signed contract, the elegant and binding signature increasing the pleasure to a violent drowning consciousness. The binding career obligations more pleasurable than the bind of his ass. It was all worth it.

* * *

 

“We don’t have time-Henry said it was a ten, not a half.”

“Ten minutes is plenty of time to get us both off,” Ernesto breathes the words into her neck, moving aside the frilly lace sleeve of the costume to expose her beautiful brown shoulder. “Besides the next scene is the kiss-we need to sell it don’t we? This is a good rehearsal.”

“A chaste wedding kiss Ernesto-“ A defiant moans escapes her lips as he gathers up the layers of her skirt sliding a hand between her legs, “I swear to the Holy Virgin if someone catches us!”

“I don’t think we need a virgin’s blessing right now-you’re already wet.”

“This will kill my career if someone catches us-,”

“Ay Queirda, quierda, I will personally throw myself on the pyre before the tabloids and your husband if anyone suspects a thing…don’t worry.”

“What about Gabriella?”

“She and I are…taking a short break.”

“That’s not what I heard,”

“We can’t trust everything we hear now can we?” It’s bullshit, he knows it, she knows it-but she’s a good enough actor to pretend she believes so they can move on with the justification she did her best to argue the virtuous choice. Now she wastes no time leaning against the wall of the tiny closet bracing on her forearms as she presses out her rear.

“You better not lose it too quickly this time.”

“It was once out of two months of filming.” He snaps back, unable to reel in his pride from such a remark. She’s frustrating too, it’s risky, but God knows he needs it.

“It’s been more than once-I faked it once so you wouldn’t get upset.” She sighs, flipping up the layers of skirts that make up the poufy ridiculous dress to display her irresistibly round rear. It had caught his eye the moment they met at the screen test and put any monogamy far from his mind. “You better pull out fast this time I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Stop worrying,” His head is pounding, the last scene leaving him more flustered than he could understand. Something about his scene partner, a ridiculous scrawny actor who kept tripping over his lines. Nothing was more infuriating than dealing with an unprepared idiot.

“Then get your suspenders off.” Ha! Who was begging now? Just the tables turning of being wanted was enough to improve his disposition. The warmth of her body as he entered it only increased that satisfaction tenfold.

Wasting no time Ernesto dug his fingers into her hips. If they had less than ten minutes he was going to savor this moment of clarity amidst a day of an annoying co-worker. The more he thrust into her, the more her gripes turned into moans. The grandeur increased in his mind-bliss pounding through his senses.

There was nothing to worry about, he was Ernesto de la Cruz. Impervious. Even the danger of impregnating her, getting caught, getting dumped, untroubling. One headache couldn’t undo all his good work. And as he pulls out, his semen splattering against her thigh-dripping to the already dirty closet floor-he isn’t even scathed but her grumble that he’d have to finger her off too.

* * *

 

Her grin is cat-like and It immediately unsettles Ernesto. She awoke to his fixated fumbling across her scar-something keen in her gaze like she caught him naked. Well he was, but beyond a literal sense. A much more unpleasant nudity for him.

“Remembered?” Ernesto isn’t sure if it’s a quip at his song or not-but does his best to keep a neutral expression drawing back his hand. Her voice is groggy from sleep as she runs a wrist across her eyes, smearing away whatever remained of her mascara. “Had to sober up huh…”

“We’ve…met before.” It came out slower than Ernesto would have wished. Just who did she think she was, in his home, in his bed, acting as though he were the one not showing proper hospitality. Were not for the morning wood that demanded attention he would’ve pulled the bell for security.

“Uhuh…” She props herself up on her elbows, lacking any modesty as the sunlight brightens her nipples to a warm golden color. There’s an outrage of silence, she continuing to wait for him to piece together the puzzle instead of politely offering the answer.

“…You…want something?”

“Oh come on, why would I have stayed all night if I wanted something more than this moment?” She’s coy and enjoying the frantic shuffling in his mind to place her. What an absolute bitch. The wife of a married man? The daughter of a major producer he needed to stay on the good side of? Maybe he’d been careless and had a bastard running around-ah that seemed more likely. He couldn’t deny there were more than few nights he awoke somewhere he couldn’t remember ever going in the first place.

“Wouldn’t it be better we focus on the beautiful opportunity in front of us for a passionate moment we may not get again,” He reclines over her leaning in for a kiss and she bursts into laughter ruining any attempt on his part.

“You haven’t changed that much!”

“All right-fine,” His temper threatened to rise to the surface, “When did we fuck?” He bites out the words less seductively than he would’ve hoped, but it only entertains the obnoxious woman further.

“You want a hint?”

“I want an answer.”

“Santa Cecilia.” It hits him like a bucket of ice water, a place that had become a near fairytale at this point. Some little dirty town to pull out of his pocket for interviews-but not to ever let sit at the front of his mind as a memory beyond antidote.

* * *

 

The way his hair feels in Ernesto’s fingers is like touching the silken robes of an angel-or so he can only imagine. It’s not as if he’ll ever be there to compare. Maybe it’s only so heightened from the way the angel haired man is currently sucking his cock. Doing his absolute damnedest- divine worship damnedest to deep throat the entirety of the shaft, even as he chokes with the effort from the girth pressing open his throat. It’s more melodic that that of a church choir vocalizing.

No, no, that’s giving him too much credit though. It probably wouldn’t be half as inducing of religious ecstasy without the fervent efforts of the young copper haired woman shoulder to shoulder with him-her mouth occupied underneath’s the angel’s, lathering and lapping at his balls as though the dehydration would kill him.

Originally he’d found her so snobbish during the awards ceremony (then again, aren’t all gringas?) he’d decided her looks weren’t worth the endurance, until a glass of champagne had her opening up to him-switching from her perfect English to an even more natural Spanish.

Then she was more than delighted to join him for an evening, flirting openly as her apparently oblivious American beau, watched the award ceremony passively (he was dreadfully annoyed at his lack of nominations). What a surprise when Ernesto invited her to the hotel room he was more than gay to join, and now seemed an entirely a perfect fit with the group as he fucked his girl hard from behind.

Lord knows he was handsome, one of those American stars as handsome as himself, enough so Ernesto sat up to kiss him, the taste of champagne overpowering any natural flavor in either of them.

“Isn’t he a good kisser? He’s got some real moxie,” The actress pants, lifting her mouth from him, and creating a beautiful sight of spit down her chin, glittering against the pretty shade of pink those pale gringos were capable of becoming.

“Is it possible he’ll get in cahoots with me over you?” He tries some American slang back, too tipsy to give much of a shit whether it makes sense to them. His meaning is clear as he lifts her chin with a dazzling smirk, wiping it clean with his thumb. “If you’re capable of two men at once hermosa?”

“Sí cariño,” She nearly moans the words, the excitement in her eyes growing as she looks over her shoulder, disjoining herself from her beau.

With the air of a director Ernesto waves the bodies around nearly seamlessly, never leaving his place against the massive hotel bed’s headboard. The man on his cock slips off, taking a spot at Ernesto’s side-kissing his neck and muttering how excited he is to be there, again. Stage hands were always so gracious.

With a twirl of his finger he gestures the actress to turn around yanking her into his lap as she lets out a delighted chuckle. The warmth is lovely, as is the nylon of her black stockings. Like silk across his thighs. They’re miraculously still in place because of the lacey (ironic) white garter belt. Either the alcohol has her excitable and open minded, or this isn’t her first rodeo because she grabs Ernesto's hand without any prompting and begins to suck across his fingers.

The handsome American slides closer, gripping the lovely woman by her thighs and tilting her forward in Ernesto’s lap as her arm swings back behind his head. As soon as she releases his sopping fingers Ernesto runs them down her hourglass frame, until reaching her rear. Muttering in her ear how she is easily the prettiest girl he’s ever seen at an award show, he slips one, then the other into her, the alcohol on her breath intoxicating him as it comes out in her frantic little gasps.

Everyone was too tipsy for much patience, the hotel room’s very aroma had become alcoholic from the feverish panting in the room. He couldn’t remember their names, he doubted he would even remember the night come morning. It was a fair price for a night of divine delights that mortal man should not be privy to. Especially one like him.

His cock replaces his fingers, and her ass clenches him just as suffocatingly as he could hope for. He’s blessed with the sight of her sinuous throat, rising with the pressure of her moans, as she lays the back of her head on his shoulder. In an instant her beau joins, his lovely face leaning in to kiss her as he positions himself to fill her coño. Ernesto can’t decide who to kiss first once he’s inside her too, bringing a pounding increase of heat, constriction, and weight across his cock that makes him dizzy enough to forget he’s supposed to be moving.

For once working with a group of white people isn’t a complete headache. He and the beau move erratically into her-against once another, nearly grinding against each other from the conflicting angle their cocks enter her. And oh she moans so beautifully, her sweat so warm and sticky as she reclines her cheek to Ernesto’s neck. Absently he’s aware of more kisses against his throat, the stage hand at his side telling him just how incredible the sight is, and impressive he is.

The night vanishes in a haze of steaming bodies and he’s certain it’s the closest to divine paradise he’ll ever be.

* * *

 

“Harder,” Ernesto can barely breathe the world, the ringed fingers around his throat are nearly suffocating him. Not that he minds, it’s part of the reason he’s so very courteous allowing the gringo to occasionally top when they meet up. Many of his partners are much younger, adoring, gaping, gawking, ready to choke on his cock from a single wink or smile in their general direction. With this one, a man in just as public a position as himself he has to work to earn his effort, his violence, coercing into one more meeting every-time, despite the protests of their careers in peril. The chase is a thrill, and somehow, he discovered over the last two years, the utter antipathy toward his success because it’s no more impressive than his own.

The gringo delivers and for, as it’s called now, ‘middle aged’ men the fucking always leaves him feeling as spent and vigorous as it did in his twenties. The soft hand of a man who’s never done hard labor in his life, is like velvet when it comes down on his windpipe with the combination of forceful hammering into his hips, driving that cock so deeply it nearly nails his body into the mattress it’s so piercing.

“You’re still so greedy,” the gringo pants, that harsh deep rasping English, that Ernesto has picked up from a handful of English films to expand his “global image”.

“Is it too much for you old man?” Ernesto nearly snarls, ignoring the fact if the statement could apply to him it could easily apply to himself without much a leap. Not that the concept of aging offends this man, on the contrary he takes some bullshit dignity in their growing ‘wisdom’ and ‘power’-or some nonsense like that. But the very implication he could present a challenge too grand, that a Mexican could outdo him, the hand suddenly clenches so tightly Ernesto can’t manage another word-none the less an insult.  
  
“Are you asking for your asshole to be ripped in half?” He hisses into Ernesto’s ear, the weight of his body further pressing him downward, and the very words make his spine tingle. If he could speak right now he’d challenge him to do just that. There’s a bliss in the destruction of it all, like the climactic explosion of a star. It drowns out the utter emptiness of the universe, the deafening silence that could consume and freeze one down to their very blood.

Getting his wish is brutal, the beating of the man’s thighs into his ass surely going to leave bruises in the morning. He’ll take a week of sitting on a cushion for this-it’s enough to sustain that dark drive inside of him for months. The part behind the façade of the kindest, most wholesome, and patient entertainer in the business. It’s rare, but it rebels at times, longing for something so much more intense and violent outside of his ideal Catholic image. He doesn’t bother to wonder where it is-but if this kind of brutal fuck stops him from snapping back at the next reporter who asks him for the hundredth time why he hasn’t taken a wife, he takes it greedily when he can possibly get it. Especially from someone else who understands the suffocating bubble of a pure image. The hard bite on the back of his neck-possibly tearing the skin, seeps out any built up ugliness.

He’s getting light headed, he really can’t breathe and the room is spinning, each thrust pushing him along like some sort of whirlwind carousel. Everything feels numb except the flashing sensation alternating between agony and pleasure. It heightens the ecstasy when it washes from his anus up through the rest of his being, when it replaces the pain-the contrast explosive. Freezing emptiness to blinding heat.

“J-jesus Christ,” The gringo hisses involuntarily and it’s more effective than a hand on his cock. There’s nothing more rewarding than milking a loss of control out of man who thinks himself so above him-above this. Feeling his come splatter across stinging scratched back. In a violent, strangled gasp for air Ernesto feels every obligation forced from his body in a blinding, immobilizing orgasm that clouds his vision to black for a brief second as the come splatters across the mattress he is trapped against. In that moment he may as well be Jesus, he’s so beyond all earthy matters.

* * *

“No you don’t have any bastards crawling around in Santa Cecilia-at least not from me.” There was a sly smile on her face, and he couldn’t believe he’d failed to recognize her instantly even with some liquor in his system. It did relax him once again, she wasn’t anyone important to be concerned with. Just a coincidence he’d found in a party.

“You’re lucky, I wouldn’t usually let anyone from that place near me.” But she was here, her dark eyes and hanging breasts seemed especially poetic in the morning sun and as inviting as the bottom of a glass.

“I doubt you even remember my name,” she challenged as he pulled her slender body against his. Touché. It was a soft sounding something wasn’t it? Cynthia? Sára?

“What does a name matter-isn’t it more flattering I remember how you made me feel?” He attempts a kiss-only for her to slide away at the last second, sitting up with a mischievous laugh.

“That is such a line of bullshit if I’ve ever heard one! You really spit out parables in your personal life too? I’d hoped it was just your songs.”She was going to make him work for it wasn’t she?

“I’m serious, you were a highlight of my youth.”

“Is that so? What year did we fuck?”

“Uh-how can you put time-“

“How may times?”

“…Well every time blurred-,”

“Where?”

“Is there a reason you what to rehash the past instead of enjoy the present moment before us?” The impatience shows in his voice a little more crisply than he meant. He reconsiders kicking her out and just inviting one his staff for a fast fuck.

“Only because it was one of the most ridiculous moments of my life, is fucking in churches a common thing for you it’s so forgettable?”

“We…oh, oh!” Her! Oh yes no wonder she had been so spry and adventurous last evening. If she was willing to commit sacrilege of fucking in one of the only private places a pair of horny teenagers could find-it was only logical her depravity had climbed. It’s impossible to stop himself from laughing.

“Sí ‘oh’! I still have a scar from the nail tearing my dress.” She’s smirking now joining the laughter, smacking his shoulder.

“You! That’s-ha-no I don’t usually fuck in churches. This is rich, wasn’t it the day before your wedding?”

“You’re mixing me up with another church fuck,”

“I swear you were about to take wedding vows.” He can’t stop snickering.

“No, I’d been avoiding a marriage.” She says cooly, “And like yourself I’ve managed to stay free of its snares since then. You sound like a bigger whore than me if you forgot that though.”

“You can’t tell me you remember every little fuck you’ve had?” He retorts, lifting her chin in hopes of adding something a little more memorable to his list.

“I can remember one in a church-that was one of the most anxiety provoking moments of my life-“

“Let me make it up to you,”

“I can’t believe you forgot-we were nearly caught-“ She protests as he crawls over her, laughing herself at the absurdity. He gives up on arguing with her, his mouth trailing wet kisses across her neck, following the line of bite marks from the previous evening. “You said we should run-and I said Padre Edmundo is half blind it doesn’t matter-and-,” She’s growing breathless too loosing herself in the sensation as his palm slides down her narrow thighs prying them apart, “And then it-…it was that kid-and suddenly you didn’t care-”

“Mmhm I was too bewitched by your beauty-,”

“Bullshit you were playing a prank-since it was your friend wasn’t it-that caught us?” Finally he stills, a face coming to mind he hadn’t planned to consider that morning at all. “He practically screamed when he caught you with your slacks at your ankles and I jumped so fast to get my dress down I stabbed myself on a nail in the box.”

“I don’t recall that.” Ernesto forces the words out, resting his forehead against her inner thigh.

“Probably because you ran off screaming after him-I could have killed you for leaving me there. Especially since I didn’t even get a chance to get off over it.” She nudges his head with her thigh sitting up to address him, “When I heard you became so successful-I decided one day I’d make you regret leaving me there and I think last night certainly-…are you?” It’s soundless, barely noticeable, but she is just close enough to detect it, feel it against her skin. Before he can roll away she moves her leg looking down at his expression. “Why are you crying?”

* * *

 

“Why not?”

“Don’t ask me that cabrón.”

“So being engaged-that means all the fun is over? Are you telling me as _this_ young a man all your fun is over? She’s not watching over your shoulder Hèctor.”

“It means the same thing it did since we became serious-“

“Ay, Héctor you’re not even at the altar and already whipped into submission.” He smirks, clapping a hand upon Hèctor’s bony shoulder, shaking him from the daze of encroaching matrimony.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” his voice snaps like a whip, slapping the smirk off Ernesto’s face to a scratch of indignation. It hits even harder than his hand which bats Ernesto’s hand off his shoulder.

“Ay, fine. Be a child about it Héctor.” Before he even considers his next steps, he allows the slam of the hotel door declare his fury more pointedly than any words.

He can’t stand it. Being in the busy street of a foreign city alone. People rushing by like he’s nothing and no one without even a casual glance in his direction. The booming repetition of Héctor’s refusal in his head. The nearest cantina is less than two minutes away, they’d played there only an hour earlier, and plenty of patrons who saw their set return his smile the moment he walks in.

It takes less than a minute before the pretty woman behind the bar is calling out to him, reminding him just how talented he was, putting Hèctor far from his mind. She’s got her hair short in that new fashioned gringa style-a pity. Thankfully it doesn’t take away from just how beautiful her brown eyes are, the flicker of the oil lamps creating a spectrum of sparkles across the dark backdrop. Which Ernesto tells her with a charming smile, tenderly tracing his finger across her knuckle.

She gives him his drink for free, remarking how he made her night, the performance was so entertaining and lively in comparison to the old sleepy men who usually take up the stage with their guitars, droning on about some woman he lost. He buys the next round, insisting she drink with him, insisting she sit and converse with him because oh her city is just _so_ interesting. It only takes one drink for her to allow him bypass of Catholic modesty; resting his palm on her hand-then her forearm-then her thigh as he leans closer and assures her she is easily ‘the most guapa mujer’ he has ever beheld on his travels.

The cross on around her neck seems like nothing but an aesthetic decoration as he looks down at the top of her head in the cantina’s storage room-watching as he makes violently restrictive ties of her hair around his thick fingers. Yes, _yes_ , _**yes**_. The way she lets him fuck her mouth, the way she so openly provides space for his cock and mind to get lost in is the definition of perfection.

It’s all gone now. She’s given him a place to pour all his love as he eagerly arches his hips, accepting hers. He greedily takes every ounce of affection she’ll show him for his performance, how much he enriched her life. And in turn he’ll take hers, he’ll take the meager thing she or maybe any other fan could do, displaying their pitiful attempts to equal his very vigorous passion he just gave in that performance. And if it’s not enough he considers, slamming his cock down her obviously practiced mouth, watching the salvia run from her chin to her dress, there’s a cantina full of waiting lovers. His mind is blank with the bliss of their potential and it makes him smile into the darkness.

He can’t believe any idiot would choose marriage over the expanse of love there was in the world to collect.

 

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u-eTmoyP_5A


End file.
